Heart of the Mountain
by Anderida
Summary: Stiles must banish a water spirit. That means he has to spend a weekend camping in the Beacon Hills forest. With Derek.
1. Chapter 1: The Source

**Heart of the Mountain **

**Chapter 1. The Source**

It had all seemed so easy. A weekend trek into the forest to the caves, find where the underground stream bubbled to the surface and banish the supernatural water spirit with a carefully worded incantation. That would bring about a sudden end to the bizarre run of bad luck that had befallen the Beacon Hills Canoe Club downstream and there would be no more overturned leisure craft and no more near-drownings or worse.

But, of course, it couldn't be that straightforward because, as Stiles should have known, where he was involved, a wrench would find its way into the works.

It was all because of Lydia that he'd become ensnared in the first place. She knew Latin, specifically the archaic dialect that the banishing spell was written in, and she had initially declared that she would make the journey to the spring herself. That was for all of thirty seconds until she realised that her shoes would be unlikely to survive the hike into hill-walking country.

Then Derek had insisted on going alone; had been quite vocal on the subject actually for such a taciturn man, um, werewolf.

But Lydia, as always, was a force to be reckoned with.

"It's me and my Christian Louboutin's, which you will have to reimburse me for if there is so much as a mark on the sole. Or you take Stiles and his unfashionable trainers," she'd told Derek as she volunteered Stiles to go in her place, before explaining that Stiles' Latin enunciation was probably better than Derek's.

Of course no-one had heard Derek speak Latin, and he wasn't about to allow Lydia to pass judgement on his ability to do so, so Stiles was included almost by default.

Then Lydia had drilled Stiles on the correct pronunciation of the spell until he was pretty sure he was mumbling it in his sleep.

At first, he'd grumbled a bit about going, but if he was honest with himself he was actually looking forward to a short camping trip with Derek Hale. He couldn't quite put his finger on what was so alluring about the thought of hiking with the irascible werewolf who, when not being stoic and silent, was acerbic and dismissive, with just a touch of physical violence thrown in for good measure, but something told him this was an adventure he definitely wanted part of. He just didn't want to analyse why exactly because, as he'd learnt from his English Literature class, when you analyse something too deeply you take all the fun out of it.

Getting his father's approval was easier than Stiles had anticipated when he realised he could leverage his father's guilt about his punishing work schedules which prevented him from taking his son camping himself. It seemed that the sheriff's residual distrust of Derek Hale was ameliorated by his desire to let his son do the sort of things that boys of his age should be doing. If he was surprised by Stiles sudden urge to go roughing it in the wilderness, he kept it to himself, and after lecturing Stiles and Derek on snakes, campfires and 'pack it in; pack it out', the sheriff gave his begrudging blessing to the trip.

So, curbing his eagerness, or at least trying to make it less obvious, Stiles had set off with Derek to find the home of this mischievous, possibly soon to be murderous, water nymph, to rattle off the incantation and return home flushed with the success of saving Beacon Hills County water sports lovers.

Everything had gone so well at first.

Derek and Stiles had trekked as far as the base of the range of hills that provided Beacon Hills with its name, its picturesque backdrop and its seemingly unending supply of lumber.

As expected, initially Derek had been his usual moody self with a side order of angry indifference. But as they got further away from civilisation Stiles had thought that Derek was beginning to chill a little. He had even stopped Stiles from tramping through a thicket full of poison ivy, and he didn't have to do that.

At times Derek would point out a particular view saying, "You can see your father's station from here," or "that peak on the horizon is only 1500 feet short of Mount Whitney". And if Stiles asked a sensible question Derek would actually answer it too. As long as he didn't ask too_ many_ questions.

Stiles found himself learning a lot from Derek about the animals in the forest and about the different plants and trees; their uses and lifecycles. He now knew what mule deer tracks looked like, how to tell direction from studying the moss on tree bark, and that mistletoe was actually parasitic and needed a host plant in order to survive.

He wondered if all werewolves knew this much about the outdoors or if Derek was especially knowledgeable. He supposed regular wolves might know lots about the forests they inhabit too, although they couldn't actually articulate anything. Maybe werewolves had a similar level of knowledge. Or maybe it was just what Derek had picked up from all the reading he did, because he didn't really seem like the outdoorsy type.

In the early evening they had set up camp, and dined on cold chicken and ham sandwiches that Lydia had forced Derek to bring with him. And even though Derek must have said, 'shut up' to him nearly a dozen times, Stiles was still really enjoying his time in Derek's company. Which, if he thought about it, seemed a little odd and was something that, again, he didn't feel was appropriate to analyse.

They settled down for the night, Stiles in a small 'pup' tent (and yes, he milked that for every comic reference he could) and Derek slept in the open at the base of a tree. Derek had transformed into his wolf, telling Stiles he was doing so for comfort and so he could be extra vigilant since Stiles was human and needed a wolf-shaped bodyguard, it seemed.

Stiles might have been a little intimidated at the thought of spending the night with a naked wolf (and therefore a naked Derek) not ten feet away, so he had futilely protested that he didn't need protecting and that Derek was just showing off. But as he prepared to settle for the night, he found himself stealing fascinated glances at the curled up form of Derek's furry alter ego.

The next morning a fully human, fully clothed Derek woke Stiles with a bark (although Stiles refrained from calling him on it) and thrust a thermos of coffee and a cheese croissant at him, courtesy of Lydia's favourite coffee shop. The coffee was cold but Stiles still thought that this was one of the best breakfasts that he could remember.

They got an early start (too early, according to Stiles), leaving the tent and some other belongings there for their return. They set off with just their daypacks and hiked up to where the pine forest began to give way to the sparser vegetation of the stony, steeper hillside. There they found a small pool of running water at the head of the trickle that eventually became the river that ran through Beacon Hills County in the valley below.

The thin stream supplying the pool disappeared back into the entrance of a cave hollowed out in the top layer of soft sandstone that gave the soil at this height its distinctive orange hue. Over the sandstone, a little above the cave entrance, was the start of a layer of milky limestone, giving the tops of this range of mountains the appearance of being snow-capped even at the lowest elevations and in the driest of summers.

Stiles had never been this far into the forest before and he was stunned by the beauty around him, and particularly by the view over the valley which took his breath away for a moment. But he was there for a reason and as he drank in the stunning panorama, filing it away in his head, he shook himself mentally and turned back to the cave, nodding to Derek who seemed to be watching him closely. He knew that the banishment incantation needed to be spoken as near as possible to the actual point that the water came out of the ground, so he approached the cave cautiously, feeling Derek following close behind him.

The mouth of the cave was wide with the stream running in a small cleft through the middle of the flat, dusty cave floor. As he scanned their surroundings Stiles was relieved to find no animal bones or other signs that bear or mountain lion were resident. Stiles turned to walk backwards into the opening and smiled at Derek, relishing the fact that this was turning out to be an easy task. Derek scowled back.

At the back of the cave, they followed the stream into a broad tunnel, easily big enough for them to walk upright and wide enough that they could only just touch the sides if they stretched out both arms. Stiles pulled his flashlight from his backpack and they continued making their way deeper into the mountain.

As they turned a corner to follow the stream around a particularly dramatic stalactite/stalagmite combo, they found that the tunnel ran only for another few feet before opening out into a large cavern. It was difficult to make out the edges of this huge cave in the small beam of Stiles' flashlight, but they weren't there to marvel at the scenery so Stiles kept the beam down low, reflecting off the narrow ribbon of water that was drawing them further from the surface with every step.

At the back of the cavern the stream seemed to slide out from under the solid rock wall as the water flowed out of a fissure at ground level.

"Here," Stiles said, setting down his backpack on the stone floor and shining the flashlight at the point where the water slipped into view.

From his own backpack Derek took out the baggie containing the salt and redwood ashes mixture they had bought with them, and handed it to Stiles who scattered a generous pinch onto the surface of the water and began the incantation that he could, quite literally, recite in his sleep.

"Aqua spiritum redeundum tibi est ad patriam tuam. Aqua spiritum a te ad inferos, unde venisti." _[Water spirit you must return to your true home. Water spirit return to the underworld from whence you came.]_

And suddenly it seemed as though lightening had sparked in the enclosed space of the cavern. Stiles nearly dropped his flashlight in surprise but managed to tighten his grip and in its thin beam got his first glimpse of the water spirit that had been causing so much mayhem.

Standing a short distance away on the other side of the stream was a pale figure, a little over three feet tall, with a slender frame, over-long limbs and a thin face. At first glance, Stiles couldn't tell if the creature was male or female since its features were fine and its ash-blonde hair was lose and halfway down its back. Its clothes, a sort of bluey-green jumpsuit, didn't provide any clues and Stiles surmised that perhaps water spirits don't have separate sexes. He thought of earthworms briefly before he refocused and quickly continued his ritual incantation.

"Ut sine cura regni relinquat. Haec aqua est in nobis est quod tibi pretiosum. Tu autem reverteris, et in nomine tuo, quod nos hanc amnis."

"Oh pul-lease!" said the imp in a high-pitched whine. "Can you hear yourself? 'You may leave this realm without worry. This water is as precious to us as it is to you. You may return and know that we protect this stream in your name,'" it translated in a sing-song voice. "Seriously? And that's practically standard Latin, although it needs a bit of work before it actually makes any kind of sense. Where do you get this guff from?"

"Um, it's the standard water nymph banishment," Stiles replied uncertainly, dropping the beam of the flashlight so it wasn't blinding the small creature.

"Water nymph! Water _nymph_!" the small creature yelled. "I'm a goddamn sprite! A water _sprite_, you human numbskull. And, what's that?" it pointed a bony digit at the bag in Stiles' hand. "Salt and ashes? From a redwood, would that be? Really? You do know it's the 21st century? Jeez, do you people know nothing?"

Derek stepped forward then. "We know you've been capsizing boats and endangering human lives. We need you to stop."

"Bit of fun, is all," the sprite replied with a shrug of its shoulders.

"Not for the humans that have nearly drowned because of you," Derek said with a growl.

"Well, Heavens to Betsy, you're a werewolf!" the creature observed excitedly. "A human/werewolf tag team. Don't see many of those these days. Oh my, this is very interesting. Yes, very unusual. Well, well, well. And you're an Alpha too. Wait 'til I tell 'em at home. They won't believe me."

"Now we have established who we all are, you need to leave. There can't be any more boating accidents because someone will drown if this continues," Derek informed the sprite, taking a step nearer as he spoke.

"Hey, back off there you big mutt." The imp backed away until it hit the cavern wall.

Derek growled but he stopped in his tracks as Stiles moved forward to stand just in front of him.

"Um, Mr Water Sprite," Stiles addressed the creature, "we just want the capsizing to stop. Sudden whirlpools have popped up out of nowhere, rapids appear where the river bed is flat, and boats have been swamped by waves on a non-tidal river. People have been seriously hurt and it's only a matter of time before someone gets killed. I'm sure that's not what you want."

The imp looked at Stiles as if considering something important and Stiles shifted uncomfortably under its gaze. Then it tipped its head to look at Derek, who was half obscured behind Stiles, until Derek took a step away to his right and returned the stare in that withering fashion that he had perfected.

"This is all highly unusual, though not without precedent," it said as if talking to itself, "but I don't think I've personally ever seen anything this remarkable. Fascinating. I could dine out on this story for years."

"I'm sorry," Stiles said cautiously, "What haven't you seen before? Do they not have werewolves where you come from?"

The sprite let out a sudden cackle that had Derek clamping his hands over his ears.

"Oh, you human familiars are so funny," it said in a vaguely condescending manner, "You have no idea, do you?"

"Um, no idea about what?" Stiles asked, wondering if he really wanted to know.

"It's not important," it said dismissively, "well, not to me, anyway. But it's a great tale for when I get home. It'll have 'em in stitches."

"You'll go home then?" Stiles asked expectantly.

"I might. Mmm, yes, I could be persuaded to go home. Bit boring here actually. Okay, yes, I'll go. But I want something in exchange."

"What?" Derek barked.

"Well now, that would be for me to know and for you to find out," it said with a smile that seemed to expose far too many teeth.

"That makes no sense," Stiles said. "How can we know what you want if you don't tell us?"

"Hah!" the creature thrust out its jaw arrogantly. "That's where the fun comes in. I told you it was boring here. This should liven things up a bit. So, I'll leave you with this thought: When you find out what it is I want, you'll do what you need to do and then I'll be gone for good. And you might even thank me."

"Oh goody. A riddle," Stiles said sarcastically, not hiding his irritation. "Can you give us a clue here?"

"A clue? Yes, I can do that. 'What I want no _one_ can give, two are needed for it to live.' Toodles!"

And with another flash of light the creature was gone.

"Disappearing in a flash of light? So cliché!" Stiles grumbled, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

Then suddenly there was a deep rumbling noise, the sort that you felt in the pit of your stomach, before the whole floor seemed to pitch up, as the mountain-thick walls began to flex and shake, and rocks starting crashing to the ground around them.

"Earthquake!" yelled Stiles in panic as he fell to the floor, clutching his flashlight tightly to his chest.


	2. Chapter 2: Earthquake

**Heart of the Mountain**

**Chapter 2. Earthquake**

The deep rumbling sound and the sharp crash of falling mountainside was deafening and terrifying. Stiles could do nothing but huddle on the floor, fear routing him to the spot.

Then Derek was next to him, leaning over him as if to protect him from the falling rocks and stones. He dragged Stiles to his feet and, still using his body as a shield over the stooped teen, he pulled him across the cave, retracing their steps towards the entrance.

Just as they reached the other side of the cavern, the noise and the falling rocks stopped as suddenly as they had begun. Not minutes before, there had been the opening to the wide tunnel that led back to the cave entrance. Now there was just a pile of rubble completely blocking their way out.

Stiles held his flashlight up, first checking the blocked passageway and then strafing the cavern walls with its beam to check the damage done by the earthquake. He had been surprised that neither he nor Derek had been hit by the falling rocks but now he understood why.

"Derek, look," he said pulling at his companion's sleeve, "the rocks are only around the edges. Nothing's fallen in the middle, just felt like it at the time. But nothing hit us. Just sealed us in. That wasn't an earthquake; I think it was the sprite's doing."

Derek harrumphed his agreement as he set to work moving the rocks to unblock the way out. Stiles set down the flashlight on a rocky outcrop and began to help with some of the smaller stones.

It wasn't until several minutes had passed that Stiles noticed something wasn't right.

"Derek, stop a minute."

Derek straightened up but didn't look like he was going to stop until he saw the expression on Stiles' face.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"We've just moved a ton of rock but look: nothing's changed." Stiles picked up the flashlight and shone it up onto the rubble pile stacked against the rock face in front of them. "The tunnel is still completely blocked. As we take rock away, more takes its place. It's like magic. Is that even possible?"

"It's got to be an enchantment. The water sprite must be doing this," Derek said, dusting his hands on his jeans. "It's going to keep us here until we give it what it wants."

"But we don't know what it wants. It didn't say, just got all cryptic. Hey, you're not related, are you?" Stiles asked, getting a patented Derek glare for his trouble.

Derek snatched the flashlight from Stiles and swept its beam around the cavern. "There are no other exits, although I can feel a slight movement in the air above us so I think fresh air is getting in somewhere up there." He indicated the vaulted ceiling of the cavern some thirty or more feet above their heads.

"Oh, wonderful," Stiles complained, "no chance of reaching the roof to see if there might be a way out up there. Oh well, at least we won't suffocate … or die of thirst," he said as he nodded towards the stream that was still bubbling up slowly from under the stone wall on the far side of the cavern and disappearing under the pile of rocks they had tried to move.

"You may soon wish we didn't have access to air or any water," Derek said flatly as he sat down on the broken stump of a stalagmite, setting the flashlight on the floor alongside him.

"Why would I wish to run out of air and water?" Stiles said, looking at Derek as if he had just transformed into a poodle.

"Better the quicker death of asphyxiation or dehydration than to die slowly of starvation," Derek informed him as if that would be obvious to even a pre-schooler.

"Oh, well you're a little ray of sunshine, aren't you," Stiles retorted with a shudder. "Anyway, Scott will come looking for us when we're not back by tomorrow. It won't be difficult to find us because you just have to follow the river back to its source. He'll come rescue us."

"And how will he rescue us exactly? That tunnel could be blocked all the way to the front of the cave. So even if it wasn't filled with enchanted rocks that magically re-appear, it would take a team of firefighters weeks to dig us out."

"And it just keeps getting better and better!" Stiles groaned. "Alright, so, we're stuck here until we give Chuckles the Clown what he wants. But on a note of optimism here, in the interests of balance and avoiding unnecessary panic, I would point out that Chuckles could have killed us with his magical earthquake. But he didn't."

"In the interests of balance, maybe we just got lucky. Or unlucky, for those of us not relishing starving to death."

"Oh my god, you are just so negative!" Stiles threw his hands up in mock horror. "Can we _not_ focus on the downside for once?"

Derek just shrugged then hunched over and seemed to threaten his boots with an angry stare.

"Awesome!" Stiles sighed heavily. "Well, okay, the 'I'm-not-a-nymph-I'm-a-sprite' troll wants us to solve its riddle before it lets us out of here so we'd better hurry up and figure it out."

"You have any suggestions?" Derek asked, pitching an eyebrow in a way which suggested he knew the answer was 'no'.

"Well, not yet but give me a minute to think," Stiles pulled a face, "He – it – whatever – said, um, 'What I want you can't give,' then, um, 'you need two of them to live.'

"'What I want no _one_ can give, two are needed for _it_ to live.' That's what it actually said," Derek corrected him. "It stressed the 'one' of 'no one'. I think that means nobody in isolation and maybe it was referring to an action rather than an object."

"You mean, it's not like, um, you need two lungs to live but more like 'breathing' is the answer?"

"Yes, although it's possible to survive with one lung so that analogy doesn't work."

"Aw, Mr Grumpy-Butt Sour-Wolf!" Stiles grumbled as he grabbed up the flashlight to search out a suitable place to sit. He checked around for a bit before sitting himself down on the floor a few feet from Derek where he could lean against the base of a large stalagmite. He swung arcs of light around the cavern, half-heartedly looking for an escape route, knowing that there wasn't one.

"You'd better turn that thing off," Derek advised abruptly. "We should conserve the battery."

"Oh," Stiles said sadly as he pushed the button to shut the light off. "Ow!" After a few seconds the light switched on again.

"That's really dark," Stiles complained, "I couldn't see anything. I mean, nothing. At all."

"That would be the lack of light," Derek observed bluntly.

"No shit, Sherlock! But there's dark, and then there's _dark_. This was uber-dark. I couldn't see my hand in front of my face."

"That would be the lack of light," Derek repeated with emphasis.

"Well, duh! But usually I can see _something_. You know, make out vague shapes if nothing else."

"Only when there is some small amount of light. But we are currently in the middle of a mountain. No light could penetrate this far into the mountain even if we weren't shut in."

"Oh, there's that ray of sunshine again! Silly me! The light doesn't reach this far into the mountain! Way to cheer me up!"

Stiles knew he sounded a bit panicky and tried to calm himself with deep breaths. But that just got him wondering how many deep breaths he could take before he used up all the oxygen for both him and Derek, and then Derek would die because he was certain werewolves still needed to breathe even if they did have super healing powers, so Derek would die and it would all be his fault and then he'd be alone and Derek would be dead and …

"Slow your breathing. You're about to hyperventilate," Derek said, regarding Stiles with a strange look that he couldn't place. It couldn't be worry, so why was he looking at him like that?

Stiles nodded and began to consciously think about slowing his breathing down. But it was a struggle and he seemed to be making things worse. His breaths became deeper and then he felt nauseous. He began to feel that, despite inhaling so deeply, he couldn't catch his breath at all, as if the oxygen in the cavern had already been used up.

Then Derek was talking to him quietly, rhythmically, "Hold your breath for the count of three before you breathe out. Breathe in now, and hold, two, three, and out. Now in, slowly, and hold, two, three, out slowly, and in … take your time, no rush, hold, two, three and out …"

Stiles did as he was told, trusting that Derek was helping him and trying not to focus on how weird this had just become. As he listened, he began to feel calmer and his panicked breaths became less erratic. Stiles realised that he was breathing to the pace set by Derek's soothing tone and part of him marvelled that a permanently pissed off, grumpy, abrasive alpha werewolf could be so comforting.

"That's it," Derek was saying, "just listen to me now, don't think about your breathing; just think about my voice. Let your breathing take care of itself now, while you just listen to me. Relax and let yourself calm down naturally. That's good. I can hear your heart rate drop. And your breathing is settling. Are you feeling better?"

"Um, yeah, I don't feel like I'm gonna throw up now. Um, thanks." Stiles could feel his cheeks glowing red with embarrassment. "How did you know to do that?"

Derek looked away and Stiles thought he wasn't going to answer but then suddenly he said, "Laura used to get panic attacks after…. after what happened."

"Oh. Sorry. Yeah, I used to get them a lot after my mom died. Haven't had one in a long while."

"It won't help either of us figure out how to get out of here if you're passed out on the floor," Derek observed, suddenly sounding very put-upon.

"No, yeah, um, sorry," Stiles mumbled, wondering how Derek could switch from super-helpful to mega-irritated so easily.

"I suggest you keep the flashlight on until you think you can survive the dark without panicking," Derek offered testily.

"Yeah, sorry," he said again, his cheeks still burning, wondering why Derek had to be such a douche-bag sometimes.

He left the light on.

"We can't stay here indefinitely," Derek said sharply, "Do you have _any_ idea what the water sprite wants?"

"Not a clue," Stiles said emphatically, a little cross for some reason that it was back to the business at hand, although he was grateful to be dropping the whole 'afraid of the dark' topic.

"It wants something," Stiles continued, "that works with two but not with just one, and it clearly thinks we can come up with the answer because it's trapped us here until we do. So what can two do that one can't? Two eyes give 3-D vision, you know, give you depth of field that you don't get with just one eye. And two heads are better than one. Oh, but then you can be in two minds, so maybe not. And you can kill two birds with one stone, but I'm not sure…"

"Stiles, I don't think running through every idiom you've ever heard that mentions two of something is going to help," Derek complained, but he didn't sound as annoyed as he usually did when Stiles rattled on about something irrelevant.

"Sorry, sorry, just thinking out loud."

"Do you ever do any other kind of thinking?" Derek asked, and Stiles thought that, even though his face was mostly in shadow, he might have seen the corners of Derek's mouth turn up just a little.

"They call it 'brainstorming' in business circles and I understand it can be very productive," Stiles said in a mock-wounded voice. "Perhaps if you joined in we could bounce ideas off one another and that might help."

"You're assuming there _is_ a solution and that the sprite isn't just messing with us because it can."

"You really are a glass half empty kind of sour wolf, aren't you?"

Derek shrugged. "We need to be open to all possibilities."

"Well, I'd rather occupy my time trying to think about what that little water pixie wants rather than just dwell on our impending deaths from starvation, thank you very much."

Derek shrugged again, this time as if conceding a point though he didn't say anything.

"You know, I assumed it was a sort of riddle," Stiles mused. "Well, actually the riddle was the clue and the clue he gave us was actually a riddle, but… Anyway, what if it's not? A riddle, in the conventional sense, I mean. It seemed that it got an idea of what it wanted that would 'liven things up'. Then it said, when we'd figured out what it wanted we'd do it and then it would go. So it's something to do with us. Something we need to do. Something that we need to do that isn't boring."

"That's the impression I got too. But it doesn't make sense." Stiles watched Derek as he glared at the cavern walls as if he could make the solution appear there and he was almost surprised that the walls didn't collapse under the intensity of Derek's stare.

Derek sighed as he mumbled to himself, "There's nothing here except rock. What on earth can we do in an empty cave?"


	3. Chapter 3: Conversation

**Heart of the Mountain**

**Chapter 3. Conversation**

"I don't get it," Stiles complained, throwing his hands in the air theatrically, "it doesn't like 'boring' yet being trapped in an empty cave has got to be the epitome of 'boring'. Letting us out of here would be less boring but it clearly doesn't want us to leave because of the magical rocks blocking the tunnel. Are water spirits always this irrational?"

"I'm not sure about their rationality but some have an odd sense of humour. There was a water horse off the coast of Maine I heard of once that used to capsize sailing yachts because it thought watching the crew struggle with a wet sail was hilarious. Never attacked motor boats or row boats, just boats with sails."

Stiles had started giggling and at Derek's raised eyebrows he struggled to explain, "Water horse, Maine, mane…." It wasn't that funny but maybe his laughter was just a reaction to the stress of the situation.

Derek's mouth may have twitched too but it was too dark to be sure.

When Stiles had managed to rein in his laughter (and yes, he giggled again at that) he scrubbed his hands over his face. "If it doesn't like things that are boring, perhaps it wants to be entertained?"

"How exactly? This cavern seems a little lacking in props and costumes." Derek flicked his hand at the empty vault around them.

"Well, if it's down to us, then maybe we are, like, the players and we have to entertain without any external aids. So, since it said that it's not about one, but about two, maybe that's, I dunno, like not a monologue but a conversation perhaps? It takes two for a conversation to 'live'."

"So a dialogue but not a soliloquy?" Derek asked, with, Stiles thought, a slight note of hope in his voice.

"Possibly. Or, wait, what if this is more about two parts of a whole?"

"Explain."

"Well, it was like the water sprite was implying something more than just two of something. More like two was needed to make the one. Two needed to make it live? I mean, like with a play, you have an actor reading lines but there needs to be an audience to listen to the words to make the thing work."

"So, Hamlet saying "_To be or not to be_" alone is only a rehearsal but give him an audience and it becomes a performance?" Derek asked.

"Yes, that's it, exactly. But I don't think it's about putting on a play or anything like that. I mean, if it's a play, what play? Maybe it doesn't like Shakespeare but enjoys Rodgers and Hammerstein musicals?"

"Whoa! I might be persuaded to recite what I remember of a Hamlet soliloquy but there is no way I'm singing '_Happy Talk'_!" Derek pulled a face and Stiles had to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing at the image that had popped into his head at that.

"Yeah," he said, because talking would hopefully dispel the thoughts of Derek doing a soft-shoe shuffle and singing show numbers, "I don't think we have to put on a production of '_42__nd__ Street'_ because like you said, why no props and costumes? And if it wanted something specific, why didn't it provide us with copies of the play or a script or libretto or something? Or at least give us a clue as to whether it likes gritty realism or over-the-top melodrama? But it's just us. So, I'm thinking we are the solution."

"As relieved as it makes me to hear that I won't be required to attempt a Busby Berkeley number with you," Stiles couldn't help the snigger that slipped out, "it still doesn't explain what exactly we're meant to do." Derek punctuated his words, and maybe passed silent comment on Stiles snicker, with his best death-ray glare, the one that Stiles thought could probably melt rock like a Star Trek phaser if only he'd focus on one point for long enough.

"Perhaps we just need to talk. You know, shoot the breeze, swap stories, chew the fat, converse …"

"Talk? _That's_ what you've come up with?"

"You've got a better suggestion?" Without waiting for an answer Stiles ploughed on, "Look, I'm thinking that having a conversation is more than just one person talking to another. The other has to listen, you know, actively. They have to ask questions and give positive feedback, like agreeing with what's being said, so the other knows they aren't wasting their time; that they're being listened too and understood. That's the 'two can do this but one can't' kind of thing."

Stiles looked across at Derek expectantly. Derek's head was tipped to one side as he considered what Stiles had said.

"Yes," Stiles said, not hiding his enthusiasm, "that's it! What you're doing now. I know that you didn't just hear my words but you understood them and you're thinking about them. That's exactly what I mean about two things making a whole. My words and your obvious consideration gets us a conversation. Well, the start of one, anyway."

"So the water sprite want us to … talk?"

"Not just talk but communicate. I mean it makes sense."

"It does?"

"Yeah, because what is it that we never do? We never talk. Oh sure, there's 'sour wolf' this and 'idiot' that, but it's not actually talking. Not the 'two parts becoming one' deal. You know nothing about me and I know nothing about you – beside the obvious, obviously."

"So you want to know more about me?"

"No, well yes, but… But my point is that I think that's what the annoying little homicidal sprite wants. For us to talk, interact really. Because we don't and I think that's what the sprite finds boring."

There was silence for a few minutes before Stiles had to fill the vacuum.

"You see, that right there, with the no talking, that's boring. Seriously tedious."

"I was thinking," came Derek's terse reply.

"But I don't know that. In a conversation you use clues, verbal and non-verbal, to show that you're still part of the conversation. That you haven't opted out or taken a vow of silence or fallen down a rabbit hole or been abducted by aliens, or…"

"Alright already! Point made. Move on to the next point. That's what one does in a conversation, yes?"

"This is gonna be like getting blood out of a stone … oh, and I so wish I hadn't gone with that analogy!"

"If you think the sprite wants us to talk, then it won't hurt to give it a try."

"Oh but it will. Hurt, I mean. Or, at least, it should do. I think."

"You had better have a conversation with me now – about how talking will hurt. Explain."

"Jeez, Derek, why do you think you don't do it? You know, the whole talking thing? Because it might 'hurt' you. So you don't. You don't have conversations, you don't open up in any way, don't let anyone close, you don't disclose anything chat-worthy. So think of why you never share and you'll know how words, even when not spoken in anger, can still hurt." Stiles knew that he sounded exasperated and a little annoyed, but seriously, how could someone so clever be so stupid at the same time? He sighed heavily.

"You want that I should 'open up'? Share?" Derek asked, his voice low but with no discernible emotion.

"Not me: the sprite does. No wait. Yes, _I _do. I want to know what makes the enigmatic alpha sour wolf tick. And since we're stuck here and you can't do your usual disappearing trick through my bedroom window or off into the woods when I ask something you don't want to talk about, I guess this is an opportunity for me to find out more about you."

"And if I don't want to talk?"

"Well, that might suck for you but you'll just have to be brave and tough it out. Because you opening up might be exactly what that meddling pixie wants before it'll let us go. So if it's a choice between us dying a slow and painful death in an underground tomb where our bodies will never be found, or you becoming a bit uncomfortable because you have to talk about your feelings, then you WILL talk. That's not up for negotiation. Go it?"

"Are you seriously going to make me talk to you?" Derek sounded incredulous.

"Let's see," grumbled Stiles, "on the one hand I die; on the other hand you get to feel a little awkward, a tad out of your comfort zone." He held out his hands in front of him as if balancing something on his upturned palms. "Certain death. A little awkwardness. Death? Or discomfort? Oh, how will I decide? Death? Discomfort?"

"Alright. I get it."

"Do you?" Stiles asked sadly. "Or are you just saying that to get me to shut up. I get that a lot, you know. People agreeing with me so I'll quit talking. In my defence, it's not always my fault. ADHD is no respecter of social niceties and societal boundaries."

"Have you always had it? ADHD?" Derek asked.

"Yeah," Stiles replied, a little surprised that Derek would ask. "They didn't diagnose it at first so I got labelled 'wilful', 'disobedient', 'forgetful' and told I wasn't trying hard enough. At kindergarten I think I kinda wore the teachers down. I was kicked out of two for being too much trouble for them, I think. My mom was mortified. When I was four years old she was told I was being 'deliberately disruptive'. A four-year-old! I think they suspected that I had a dysfunctional home. Either that, or I was just a wicked child destined for a life of crime and incarceration."

"They didn't know you were sick?" Derek sounded one part astounded and five parts angry.

"Nah, well it's not like you have your leg in a cast or you're hacking up green stuff or you have to use an inhaler to breath, like Scott with his asthma. You look normal. You just behave badly. So you must be a naughty kid. So they punish you for being naughty, like making you sit out of the fun activities that the rest of the kids are doing, and that just makes it worse because you're even more bored now and they expect you to sit still and suck it up. Kindergarten was the worst, man."

"When did you get diagnosed?" Derek looked down at the dust floor as if he was uncomfortable asking. He probably was.

"Second grade. Mom just kept on at the school and the doctors until I got to see a specialist, because she knew I wasn't just being naughty. It took them a while to find the right medication at the right dose and there was a lot of trial and error on my part, you know, finding what the psychiatrists call 'coping mechanisms'. But I got it sussed eventually."

"Will you be on medication all your life?"

Stiles looked over at the werewolf slumped on the makeshift stone stool, his back bent, head bowed and his forearms resting on his thighs.

"Hey, look at us. We're having a conversation," he said lightly, smiling when he caught Derek's eye briefly. "ADHD can get better over time. Only between a third and a half of all children with it keep it into adulthood. But I don't seem to have outgrown mine yet, and usually you'd see signs of improvement by now. So I guess I'm stuck with it for a while longer at least."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I cope and there's a lot worse out there, believe me. No, I don't do so bad."

"No, you don't. I notice, you know. That you find ways round your problems."

"You've noticed?" Stiles was oddly elated by Derek's statement although he felt that he ought to feel embarrassed or angry with himself that he wasn't as stealth-ninja about covering his ADHD tracks as he thought he was.

"Not in a bad way though. And probably because I have heightened senses. Like I know you sometimes don't take your medication when you want to make use of the energy your condition gives you.

"Really? You know I do that? Not even Scott has figured that out. He thinks I forget to take it."

"Scott wouldn't notice if his bike had square wheels," Derek observed soberly.

"Yeah, he can be a bit slow to put two and two together," Stiles conceded with a smile and a shake of his head. "So, is it just when I miss my morning tablet that you notice?"

"I know you use colour as a way to organise your thoughts," Derek stated, addressing the ground in front of his feet.

"You do?"

"The coloured highlighter pens, the coloured folders and stickers. You use more coloured Post-it Notes than the entire administration department of a multi-national."

"Yeah, my dad says the same. He says sticky notes don't grow on trees, but actually since they're made of paper, they kind of _are_ trees, so…"

"And," Derek continued, cutting across Stiles' ramble, "you use music with a regular beat to help you focus – that's how you manage your homework and how you drive when you're having a bad day with your concentration.

"You use your intellect too, to fill in the spaces that your ADHD causes. Like when you ask about the way people are supposed to react to things and you file the information away to use later when you don't instinctively know how to respond to something.

"I didn't know I was so transparent. That sucks."

"No. You're very subtle about it and nobody else knows, I'm sure. It's just that I also have to work on the human interaction that I have, so I pick up on stuff when someone else is doing something similar. You're actually very skilled at what you do. Even I didn't notice at first."

"Um, thanks," Stiles mumbled uncomfortably.

"And I know that you're on the lacrosse team as a channel for your extra energy, which is why you prefer practice to the actual games, where coach usually benches you."

"You know about why I do lacrosse?" Stiles said in open amazement. "I'm not sure even my dad gets why I put my name down."

"You're not exactly the typical school athlete. That's not a judgement, just an observation. You enjoy the training when most players just want to get into a game."

"Yeah, well warming the bench doesn't exactly help burn off the hyperactivity. Still, I get to keep Greenburg company so some good comes out of it, because he really needs a friend on the bench – have you heard how Finstock tears into him?"

"Yes, actually. And maybe there's more to that than we know about."

"I so don't want to think about _that_!" Stiles shuddered. "But, yeah, I thought lacrosse would allow me to vent the excess energy and it does help unless I'm benched. I didn't think anyone knew."

"Like I said, I have heightened senses, so I guess I pick up on stuff non-wolves don't. Or Scott, it seems."

"He means well. He has a heart of gold but sometimes you have to flash something in ten foot neon lights to get him to see it. Then other times he surprises you by seeing right through the crap and getting it better than anyone."

"I'll take your word for that," Derek said, raising his head to look at Stiles. He was smiling a little and Stiles beamed back at him.

After a moment, Stiles took a breath and asked quietly, "Does it bother you? Living at your burnt out ruin of a house?"


	4. Chapter 4: Ghosts

**Heart of the Mountain**

**Chapter 4. Ghosts**

"Should it bother me? Living back in my old house?" Derek's voice was barely above a whisper and seemed oddly devoid of any emotion.

"Maybe. I mean, not because of the lack of amenities and the missing bits of roof so much. Although that's good reason, right there. But, well, it seems a sad place to me. Full of ghosts and sad memories."

"I have a few sad memories, yes. But I have years of happy memories too."

"Oh."

"I don't want to forget the happy times. The house is the only connection I have to those times. The only ghosts there are my family and I loved them and they loved me. So why wouldn't I want to be close to them?"

"I hadn't thought about it like that. I guess that's why my dad has always refused to move house, you know, since my mom died. Um, sorry to pry."

"No, you said the water sprite wanted us to talk so – we're talking."

"Look, I know this isn't easy for you," Stiles gave Derek an apologetic half-grin, "so you need to know that whatever we talk about in here, well, it stays here. I won't blab."

"I know that," Derek nodded. "For someone who talks incessantly you're very good at keeping confidences. You've kept the whole werewolf thing quiet. You didn't have to. And I know your friends trust you."

"Yeah, I guess. I didn't think anyone noticed."

"I noticed. I notice a lot about you."

"Yeah? You nailed the ADHD stuff. Anything else?"

"I thought you wanted to find out about me," Derek shifted, sitting more upright. "You have your chance now to ask me whatever you like and I can't duck out of your window to avoid answering."

"Okay. What's it like? Being a werewolf? I know how Scott feels about it but I think it must be different for you because you were born a werewolf into a family of werewolves. That's different isn't it?"

"Yes, it's different to becoming one through being bitten. But it's difficult for me to answer your question just because I _was_ born one. That's like asking you what it's like to be human. When you have nothing to compare it to it's difficult to describe how you feel."

"Yeah, I guess I get that. Scott is always making comparisons. A sort of 'before the bite' and 'after' judgement. He likes the extra strength and speed and not having asthma anymore but he doesn't like being different to others or feeling out of control on full moons. And I totally see his point because that's how I feel about my ADHD, only without the extra strength and speed. I guess if you've always had that you don't really notice it."

Derek sighed. "What I notice is that outside of a pack I never fit in. I can't use my extra abilities around non-werewolves because it would draw scrutiny that would be dangerous. The world is full of hunters so we have to live under the radar all our lives."

"That can't be fun, you know, always looking over your shoulder like that. But if you don't do wolfie things then no-one would know you were different. I mean it's not like you have 'werewolf' tattooed on your forehead. You look just like regular folk."

"If you didn't take your Adderall, would people know you were different?"

"Um, I guess. Yeah, I'd be more clumsy and distracted and less focussed than usual. I'd be the naughty kid again, destined for a life of crime."

"Could you pretend that you didn't have ADHD? Just act 'normal' around others?"

"I have tried, but no, the ADHD is always there, always making me act in a way I wouldn't do if I didn't have it."

"Well, that's like being a werewolf. I can try to act 'normal', 100% human, if you like, but it's not who I am. What I am. My wolf wants to run, to howl, to bond with pack-mates, to be free of constraints. I can't deny my wolf nature. It's always with me. It's part of me in just the same way as my human side."

"Okay, yeah, that makes sense. So how do you, um, reconcile the two parts of you? The human and the wolf?"

"I don't. They are both me. In human society I can express the human side. My wolf side I have to keep hidden and although I've learnt to control that side of my nature over the years, it's still a struggle and there are some days when I just want to change and run and … well, just be a wolf for a while."

"I never knew. You make being human, you know, that side of you that we see, seem so easy."

"It's anything but. I love the sense of freedom when I can let my wolf out. But it's dangerous too so I have to be cautious. I can never completely relax."

"No, 'relax' isn't a word I would associate with you, Derek." Stiles smiled sadly to himself. "So last night when you changed into your wolf, you weren't doing it just to protect me?"

Derek snorted as he tried to supress a laugh. "Partly. But yes, it was an excuse to change. To sleep outside. To be me. Just a different aspect of me. And it was probably the closest I've come to relaxing since I came back to Beacon Hills."

"That's kind of sad. And I'm flattered that you can relax in my company. That's awesome."

"Yeah, I can mostly relax in your company. I trust you." Derek's voice had lowered to a level that would have been appropriate in a confessional.

"Thanks. And, um, right back at you."

A silence enveloped them for a few minutes before Stiles asked, "If there was some magic cure, you know, a cure for being a werewolf, would you take it?"

"No," Derek replied without hesitation, "it's who I am and it's my heritage. Life might be easier if I wasn't a werewolf but it wouldn't be a life I would be interested in living. That's where being a werewolf is different from, say, your ADHD. This isn't an illness or a curse, it's a privilege and an honour. That's why I sometimes get so angry with Scott. I know it wasn't his choice to be bitten but he acts as though being a werewolf is something bad, something shameful."

"Oh. Yeah, he does, doesn't he? He can be a bit insensitive sometimes, although he doesn't mean to be."

"It's just that he never thinks about how that makes me feel. To have my species run down every time he opens his mouth. I'm sorry Peter bit him, honesty I am. But that doesn't mean I want to hear how awful it is to be a werewolf all the time. Because, really, it isn't awful; it's pretty amazing actually."

"I think I see that," Stiles smiled weakly at Derek, "you're proud of who you are and that's good. Scott has just had a little trouble adjusting is all. It was a shock when it happened so you have to cut him a little slack."

"Yes, I know, and I do try but it's not easy. I dread to think how he would have coped if you hadn't been there to help him. I think he would have got himself killed."

"It was weird realising your best friend was now a werewolf. Although, weirdly, it doesn't seem so weird now. No, not really weird at all now. How weird is that?"

"Are you getting paid by how many times you say the word 'weird'?" Derek asked and he was definitely smirking.

"No, but I think all the adrenaline has made the Adderall wear off a little early. Happens when I'm stressed sometimes," Stiles explained and shrugged apologetically.

"And I'm guessing you left your medication in the tent?"

"No! I, um, I left it in the bag hanging from the tree outside the tent, with my cell phone, - because, no signal out here – my change of clothes for tomorrow, my dirty clothes from yesterday and all the other things that are of no use here. No point dragging them half way up a mountain just to drag them down again."

"But you left your medication?" Derek asked, a note of incredulity in his voice.

"Well how was I to know that some pixie with a warped sense of humour was going to cause an earthquake, trap us in a cave, and make me have a panic attack? Anyway, I'll be fine. Oh, but you know what I did bring with me?"

Derek raised an eyebrow.

"The picnic blanket!"

Stiles pulled his backpack to him and produced, with a bit of a flourish, one rolled up quilted blanket in navy with the reverse in a green waterproof fabric. He proceeded to unroll it and lay it out in front of the stalagmite he had been using as a backrest, before lying down where he had been sitting, using his empty backpack as a pillow.

"Oh, this is so much more comfortable. C'mon over Mr Sour Wolf and make yourself at home," Stiles instructed as he patted the space on the blanket next to him.

"Pass," Derek replied leaning over and inspecting the ground just in front of his feet again. "Don't you want to ask me anything else?"

"Oh, okay," Stiles said, feeling a little crestfallen but determined not to examine why. "So, when you left Beacon Hills, after the, um, after the fire, where did you go?"

"New York at first. We had relatives who offered to take me and Laura in. We stayed with them for a short while but they were town wolves. It seemed like they lived in a constant state of denial that they were even wolves at all. They were kind people but we found it difficult to fit in with them and their pack."

"I wondered if Child Services ever got involved, because I thought I remember my dad saying something about them when he heard you were back in Beacon Hills."

"That's why we stayed with my father's cousins in New York. Child Services agreed to us staying there instead of going into care locally. We didn't really have an option. We only stayed until Laura's 18th birthday and then she became my guardian and we moved to an apartment of our own."

"So, you and Laura lived together in New York? Wow. I bet that was fun. I bet New York is a great place to live," Stiles considered this for a moment before continuing quickly, "although I imagine it's a little hectic and built-up so maybe not the best place if you're a wolf."

"It wasn't a bad place to live but I wasn't really focused on enjoying city life at the time."

"Oh, yeah, sorry. So did you stay in New York long?"

"Laura stayed. But I couldn't settle. So I travelled a lot. Cleared my head. Learned a lot too…about who I was."

"I'm sorry we dug up Laura," Stiles blurted out suddenly. "We really thought we were helping. We didn't know. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I know why you did it. But can we not talk about that? I'm sure there are other things you want to know."

"Yep!" Stiles sat up and leant forward as he spoke, "um, what's your favourite colour?"

"Oh, my favourite colour?" Derek sounded surprised by the question. "Green. Yours?"

"Difficult. Some days I'd say 'green' too, no contest. Other days, I'd have to go with blue, although there's a particular shade of deep purpley-red that I'm quite partial to. No, now I think about it, I'm going with green."

Derek chuckled. "I should have known better than to expect a simple answer from you."

"Hey, I can give simple answers!" Stiles protested. "Or, um, very complex ones too. Just saying."

"So, any other questions?" Derek asked, grinning.

"Yes. For someone who professes to like an actual colour, why don't you wear anything other than black or grey?"

"Seriously? You can ask me anything at all and you're going with that?"

"Are you saying that you're uncomfortable discussing your choice of clothing? I mean, do you even possess anything in green? Or any other colour that isn't black or grey … or white because I know you have white tees and tank tops. But I've never seen you in green, which would look really good on you because of your eyes being really green, a really interesting shade of green in fact, and you really should invest in a green top or two because …"

"Stiles!"

"Hmmm?"

"You're rambling."

"Oh. Yeah. Maybe." Stiles looked across to gauge whether Derek was mad at him, because people often were when he rambled, but Derek just looked amused. And maybe a little sympathetic too.

"So, any other questions – that don't involve discussion of my wardrobe?"

"Um, yeah, but I can't think of any right now. Oh, no wait. Yes, I have a question. Would you really have made me cut off your arm when you were shot?"

"I thought it was pretty obvious at the time. It was lose my arm or lose my life. Not a hard decision. Can I ask you something?"

Stiles nodded quickly.

"Would you have done it? Cut off my arm?"

"Yeah. Wasn't a choice really. I know you were threatening me with all sorts of bodily harm but you were dying so I didn't take that seriously. But that was it, wasn't it? You were dying. I couldn't let you die just because I was a little squeamish. I mean, how do you live with knowing someone died because you didn't have the stomach to deal with a bit of blood and gore? I was going to do it. But I don't think I've ever been so pleased to see Scott in all my life."

"Thanks," Derek said softly, "and I was pleased to see Scott too, not just because of my arm but because you were spared the blood and gore."

"Yeah, I was spared a lifetime of nightmares. Although now I just dream about vehicles crushing mechanics while I look on helplessly, or watching you drown because I'm too tired to stop you slipping below the water anymore, so maybe the arm-cutting-off wouldn't have been so traumatic in the scheme of things."

"Sorry. You've had a lot to deal with. I forget sometimes. You shouldn't have to worry about this stuff."

"Nah, but look on the bright side: it makes high school problems like homework and who to take to the prom fade into insignificance."

"But you _should_ be dealing with homework and prom dates. Not all this crap you've been through. Hell, you shouldn't even be _here_. I got you in to this."

"No, actually that was Lydia. But I'm glad it's me stuck in here and not Lydia. She's the love of my life and I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I'd let her go off into the hills never to be seen again. I'd lay down my own life before I'd let her get trapped in here with no cell phone, no fancy coffee, no comfortable couch, no shops …"

With no warning, the flashlight died, plunging the cavern into profound darkness.

"Ow! And with no light either, it seems!" Stiles added uneasily.


	5. Chapter 5: Enlightenment

**Heart of the Mountain**

**A/N: Here's the final chapter. Hope you've enjoyed this. Thank you to all my readers. You make my day. :) [Stiles and Derek make my night ;)]**

**Chapter 5. Enlightenment**

"Oh shit, shit, shit," Stiles moaned as he reached out in the dark for the flashlight, feeling relief as his hand closed around its cylindrical body. But the relief was short-lived as, when he flicked the switch back and forth rapidly, nothing happened.

"I don't get it," he said, trying to keep calm, "the battery should be good for hours and now it's just dead."

"I don't think that went out without help," Derek observed, sounding annoyed.

"Dammit!"

"Stiles, I'm coming over to join you. Okay?" Derek asked, and Stiles heard movement from somewhere in front of him but the lack of light seemed to affect all his other senses too so he wasn't exactly sure where the noise was coming from.

"Stiles?" Derek sounded very near now and Stiles jumped at the proximity of his voice.

"Yeah, I'm here," he said hoping his voice didn't sound as shaky to Derek as it did to him. He tried telling himself that this was just lack of light, that nothing else had changed, but the all-pervading darkness was seriously freaking him out.

Suddenly he felt a presence at the edge of the blanket and then Derek was next to him.

"It's okay, Stiles, I know it's scary but that's only because humans are primarily visual creatures."

Then Derek was sitting next to him and he could feel his hip and thigh against his own and then their shoulders touched. That helped a little.

"Sorry," Stiles mumbled, "you must think I'm an idiot being scared of the dark like this. I'm not usually."

"It's natural to be nervous when you can't see anything. And this is a complete absence of light. Not even my wolf eyesight can see in this. Sight deprivation is a recognised torture technique. So it's okay that it makes you uncomfortable. I guess that's why our little sprite friend shut down your flashlight."

"I don't get it. We were talking. It wasn't boring."

"I think the fact that it didn't shut off the light earlier means that we were on the right track."

"So, what? It didn't like the way the conversation was going?"

"Maybe. Look, try closing your eyes. Your brain won't panic so much if it thinks the only reason it can't see is because you've shut your eyes."

"Really? I don't think my brain is so easily fooled."

"Try it, Stiles. Close your eyes."

After a moment Derek asked, "You've shut them haven't you? Your heartbeat is calmer."

"Yeah. Guess my brain isn't as bright as I thought," Stiles said sadly.

"It's the same for all humans. The primal wiring in your brain is a lot older than the mechanism for intellectual thought, so basic instincts always prevail."

"Good to know."

"You should lie down too, for the same reason. It'll feel less threatening if you're lying down."

"Another lizard brain thing? Got it."

Stiles slithered down until he was lying flat on his back with his head propped on his backpack again. Surprisingly, he did feel a little less panicky.

"You should lay down too," he told Derek, "because I can still sense you looming over me.

He heard movement and felt Derek stretch out alongside him. Stiles knew Derek was laying on his left side facing him because he could feel the alpha's breath on his right cheek. As uncomfortable as that would have made him in normal circumstances, it felt reassuring to him now.

"So," Stiles sighed, "I guess we should try to figure out why the sprite disapproved of our conversation. What did we say that got its panties in a twist?"

"Lydia," Derek said quietly, "you said you loved Lydia."

"Well, yeah. Have you met her?"

"The water sprite hasn't, so I don't think it gets your, um, your relationship,"

"What's to get? I worship her from afar and she gets horizontal with Jackson. I know I don't stand a chance really, but I guess that's half the attraction. And I've just put my hand up for the Loser of the Decade award, haven't I?"

Derek snorted.

"Perhaps if we don't discuss your feelings for Lydia we'll get back on track?" Derek offered gently.

"Whatever. It's not as if I need reminding that I'm destined to spend the rest of my life alone. Unrequited love sucks!"

"Just because Lydia doesn't appreciate you, doesn't mean someone else won't."

"Yeah, right. Because I'm such a catch, with my ADHD and my pale skin that just refuses to pick up a tan even in the sunniest Californian summer. Oh, and now I have all this werewolf crap to deal with which means that unless I want to keep secrets –never a good basis for a relationship – I'm gonna have to have one weird conversation with whoever I eventually hook up with – assuming I ever do manage to hook up. I can see that ending well."

"Who's the glass half empty guy now?" Derek said evenly. "Some people may like pale skin …"

"In California?" Stiles cut in incredulously.

"Yes, even in California." Derek said sounding aggrieved. "You cope really well with your ADHD. And it seems that werewolves aren't such a secret in some circles. So maybe you choose a mate, um, choose a girlfriend, or, um, boyfriend … from those who already know about werewolves. It doesn't have to be such a big problem if you don't let it."

"Oh-kaaay. But I'm still me. You've met m,e right?"

"Stiles, you're worrying about nothing. Trust me."

"I do trust you. To, like, keep me alive. But trust you with my love life? You wouldn't be my first choice. Um, no offence."

Derek started laughing. It was choppy, nervous laughter and Stiles berated himself for not thinking before opening his mouth. He'd upset Derek, who was only trying to help him and make him feel better. He was ashamed of himself.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry, Derek," Stiles turned his head to face the alpha, "me and my big mouth. That's what lack of Adderall does to me. I didn't mean that how it sounded. Sorry."

"Don't be. It was fair comment. Look at my track record. I fall for an older woman and, with all my heightened werewolf senses, I just didn't see who she really was. I got my family killed because of it. You're right. What would I know about love and relationships?"

Derek's tone was brittle and Stiles felt the man's pain in the pit of his stomach.

"Derek, it wasn't your fault," Stiles was aghast as he suddenly realised the full weight of the burden Derek carried with him, "you have to know that."

"Of course it was my fault! I gave her the access she needed to destroy us. Me. No-one else." Derek's bitterness was palpable.

"No, Derek," Stiles said forcefully, opening his eyes then closing them quickly, "what happened was never down to you. Never. _She_ was responsible. Only Kate. She was the adult and she hid her evil not just from you but from everyone.

"Her own brother didn't know what she had done, what she was truly capable of, and he knew her better than anyone. He had known her all her life and he was an adult, yet he had no idea she was so twisted. If Chris didn't know, how the hell were you supposed to?"

"I should have known," Derek mumbled, "I should have questioned why anyone would be attracted to me. I was flattered that she showed an interest in me, that someone so beautiful and vital would want me. I was grateful for the attention she paid me. I didn't question it."

"Well, duh!" Stiles said empathically, turning fully on his side so that, as best he could tell, he was lying facing Derek, "You were a kid. You weren't supposed to act any differently. That's just biology. You know: lizard brain programming. She knew that and she used it to her advantage. Of course you were flattered. She was a babe: you were a teenager. Instant attraction on your part. And of course she would have been attracted to _you_. I didn't know you then, Derek, but I don't believe you can have changed that much and you're super-hot now, so it was Kate who should have been flattered to have _your_ attention."

A hollow laugh came from just inches in front of Stiles and he felt Derek's breath on his face.

"Don't," Stiles said softly, "don't give her the power to do this to you. You did nothing wrong. Maybe I don't help because I'm not always respectful to you, but it's just…well, it's just what I do. I don't mean it. Honestly, there's no-one I trust more. You don't even like me but you keep saving my life and you don't get bent out of shape when my ADHD makes me difficult to be around."

"You're never difficult to be around, Stiles. And your ADHD isn't an issue. You deal with it just fine. If anything, it can be a little endearing. And I never meant to give the impression I don't like you. I do like you. I might complain a lot but, well, like you said, it's just what I do. What we do."

"Wow, um, thanks. I don't know how Kate didn't just fall for you so hard that she forgot her own name, let alone that she was a hunter."

Derek snorted. "She forgot _my_ name a time or two. Called me 'Dave'. I think he'd been her crush in high school."

"Oh my god! It's not bad enough that she did, um, what she did, but she couldn't even get your name right? There isn't even a category in Hell for that level of evil!"

"Thanks," Derek murmured and Stiles could tell his mood was lifting.

"Hey, it's what friends are for. We are, um, friends? Aren't we?"

"Yes, Stiles, I think you can safely say we're friends. If that's what you want?"

"Yeah, friends, that's good. So, I'm going out on a limb here and guessing you and Kate were never … friends."

"Not friends, no. But I didn't realise that at the time."

"I get that. But you were a kid and …"

"I wasn't much younger than you are now."

"Nuh-uh. See that's where you're wrong. You were a kid and I never was. Not the age you were then, not really. I kind of skipped a few years when my mom died. Dad didn't cope very well. Still doesn't some days. So I kinda had to grow up real quick."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. My dad needed help and so it was lucky I was there for him."

"That's not the way it's supposed to be."

"I don't think there are any rules. Shit happens. People deal or they don't. Dad couldn't help that he was so destroyed when mom went. He didn't intend to drink too much or forget to look after me. He's a good man who got dumped on. We all cope as best we can. And I think looking after dad helped me deal with mom dying. So we both got something positive out of a pretty negative situation."

"You know you're remarkable, don't you?" Derek said softly.

"Yeah, me and every other kid that's ever faced crap in their lives. You included."

"No, but you are, Stiles."

Before he had time to react, Stiles felt a hand stroke his cheek then cradle the back of his head as lips were pressed to his cheek until they found their mark, pinning his lips with a gentle pressure. Then there was just Derek's hand resting at the nape of his neck.

"I'm sorry," Derek sounded breathless. "You said 'friends'. You didn't say anything more than friends. Sorry."

"Um, I didn't ever think anything more would be, um, acceptable." Stiles replied in a whisper.

"What, what does that mean?" Derek asked, and Stiles had a mental picture of a scared 14 year old boy, with green eyes and black unruly hair, looking for up at him for reassurance.

He couldn't find the words he wanted, so he reached out letting his fingers find the front of Derek's shirt. His hand clutched at the fabric, pulling Derek to him, as he found Derek's lips with his own. To his surprise, Derek's mouth opened and then Stiles was darting his tongue in and pushing forward with his whole body.

Derek fell onto his back, pulling Stiles with him, and suddenly Stiles was on top of him, kissing him like his life depended on it. Perhaps it did.

Stiles stopped abruptly and leant up on one arm. "Derek? Is this okay? I mean, you'd say if you didn't want this?"

And then Derek was laughing.

"Derek?" Stiles was confused and couldn't keep the worry from his voice.

"Stiles, you're an idiot!"

"Think we established that right about the time you turned out to be a sour wolf," Stiles replied petulantly.

"So that would be right about the time I first wanted to do this," Derek tugged with the hand still round the back of Stiles' neck and bought their open lips together again.

When they broke the kiss this time, Stiles stared down into the blackness and asked in a stunned voice, "You, you wanted this?"

"For the longest time. But I didn't think you would want to…get involved with a werewolf, an older guy and, well, a _guy_. My wolf could sense your arousal around me so I thought for a while that you might be interested, but you wanted Lydia so …"

"Oh my god! Seriously? I thought there's no way you would ever see me as anything but a kid and a nuisance. And I knew you'd had a girlfriend in the past so … Well, I didn't want to make a complete fool of myse..."

His words were cut off by another kiss. But then Stiles was pulling away again.

"Tell me this isn't part of the enchantment. That this is real?"

"It's real, Stiles. My wolf knows. This is real."

"Of course it's real you numbskull!" The water sprite's voice boomed out in the darkness, seemingly from every direction. Stiles may have yelped in surprise. Derek growled.

"Oh, hush your whining, werewolf," the sprite admonished, "you've got what your heart desired and so has the pasty human. And none of it is down to me – well except for providing a conducive environment."

Derek growled again and Stiles found he was gently stoking Derek's arm to calm him.

The sprite ignored him and continued, "I don't know why _your_ panties are in a twist over my little, erm, enablement. Without my intervention you two would have never had the courage to get together and would have spent miserable lives looking in vain for the one thing you had let pass you by; true love.

"You two reeked of it, you know that? The wolf telling the human part of himself that he'd found his OTP mate and being totally shut down, while the pale human boy was fantasising about a relationship with you, werewolf, but lacked the self-belief to do anything about it. You deserve each other!"

"What gives you the right...?" Derek began, lifting his head a little to address the darkness. A high-pitched laugh cut him off.

"Oh pul-lease! I've done you both a favour, and you know it! I've saved you a lifetime of online dating fees and this is 100% accurate soul-mate matching.

"Two hearts are needed for true love to live, so I have what I wanted and, just as I promised, I will leave now. There's a barstool with my name on it and a bar full of sprites, and the odd fairy, who will hang on my every word when I tell 'em about this, mark my words.

"But, to show what a good sport I am, I will keep you here without light for a further two hours. Consider it my parting gift to you. Two more hours to indulge your sensual side, free from the distraction of sight. People pay good money for sensory deprivation in LA. You can thank me by making full use of my gift.

"After two hours, the darkness will end and the exit will be cleared for you to return to your camp. You should make it there before nightfall.

"Why? Why did you do this?" Stiles asked the disembodied voice, his bewilderment evident.

"Because I can? Because you two oozed your feelings for each other from every pore and yet neither of you were ever going to do anything about it. One was too self-effacing, one too self-loathing to believe he could be loved. All nonsense.

"Nature hates that, you know? Things that ought to be, not coming to pass. Humans are such idiots, but I thought the wolf would compel _you_ to act on your desire. I've never seen a werewolf with such a strong command over its wolf side. That's truly extraordinary. Kudos Derek Hale. Although you should have let the wolf have its way on this.

"As for you, Stiles Stilinski, I agree with Alpha Hale, you are a remarkable human. You put everyone's needs above your own and look for the positive in everything, without being blind to reality. That is rare for one of your species. But I hope you have learnt that sometimes a little selfishness can be a good thing. If you don't seek what you truly desire no-one will hand it to you. Follow your heart.

"And you, Hale, follow your wolf. It seems to have a better handle on life than you do.

"Righty-oh then. I'm off. Two hours. Make the best use of it. Toodles!"

There was no flash of light but Stiles somehow knew the instant the sprite had gone and that it would not be back.

"So," murmured Stiles, "Two hours. We could do a lot in two hours."

Lips pressed briefly to his cheek and then he felt hot breath against his ear as Derek whispered, "I intend to."

The End

**A/N: Hope you liked. XxXx**


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